


Winding Down

by torakowalski



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-18
Updated: 2006-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was used to living like this: another day, another crisis, but this one was already a two-day-crisis and heading straight into a third and by now he’d had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winding Down

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://janne-d.livejournal.com/profile)[**janne_d**](http://janne-d.livejournal.com/). With beta thanks to [](http://buzzylittleb.livejournal.com/profile)[**buzzylittleb**](http://buzzylittleb.livejournal.com/).

John Sheppard collapsed backwards onto his bed and wiped a hand that was just beginning to shake over his face. God, but he was tired.

He was used to living like this: another day, another crisis, but this one was already a two-day-crisis and heading straight into a third and by now he’d had enough. John had done all he could from the military angle, evacuating huge parts of the city, and now all they could do was wait on the scientists to save the day. _Obviously_ , John supplied for himself since Rodney wasn’t there to do it for him.

Rodney.

Oh, shit.

John groaned and managed to open his eyes. He knew Rodney hadn’t gone to bed last night and it would be a full-scale miracle if he made it tonight. John should go get him. John would go get him. In just a minute. He was just going to close his eyes first, seeing as they were falling shut all by themselves anyway.

He was woken, God knew how much later, by a strange swishy noise in his head, which after a second he worked out to be a voice from his earpiece, which had somehow gotten tangled in his hair.

“Ow,” he mumbled disgruntled, freeing it and jamming it back into his ear. “Sheppard, here.” He rubbed at the side of his head and prayed he wasn’t going to develop a bald spot.

“Hello, Colonel,” Zelenka’s voice said, sounding tired but amused, but then, Zelenka could almost always be relied on to sound amused when it came to John. “Crisis is averted.”

John had been so prepared for this to run and run that it took a moment for Zelenka’s words to penetrate. “Oh,” he said, then shook himself, “That’s great, Radek.”

“Yes, yes, is very nice that we will not all die fiery deaths, but I called you for a different reason. I have something down here that I think belongs to you, and I do not think it will be able to find its way home without you.”

John was clearly not on his game, because it took a good few seconds, seconds in which he caught himself slipping back into sleep, for that to penetrate. Fuck. Rodney. “Yes,” he said, “I was just coming down to collect h-it.” And he was, or had been, he hadn’t _meant_ to fall asleep.

“Thank you, colonel.” And again he could tell Zelenka was laughing at him. “I will see you soon, then.”

“Yeah.” John said, but he was already talking to static. Rodney had told him once that the Ancient PA system they used to boost their Earth-tech radios didn’t actually allow static, that they’d added it to make themselves feel more at home. John wasn’t sure he’d been telling the truth, but he still liked the idea.

With a groan, John rolled himself off the bed, and used it to pull himself to his feet, ignoring the headrush. He knew he needed to get Rodney, take him back to one of their beds, he _wanted_ to, it wasn’t his fault his body just wanted to sleep; that didn’t make him a bad boyfriend… lover… person Rodney bestowed sexual favours on.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, wincing as grime and dried-on sweat transferred between the two. It had taken him ten minutes of concerted effort to get his shoes off when he’d gotten back to his room. Now he glared at them, looked down at his socks and decided it wouldn’t be too disgraceful for Atlantis’ military commander to run around shoeless in the middle of the night while trying to bring his errant lover to bed.

The door blinked at him accusingly when he asked it to open and he sighed and rested his forehead on the panel.

“I know,” he told Atlantis, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded, “I wanna be asleep too, but I’ve gotta go get Rodney, you know how cranky he gets.” Was it weird that he was talking to a city? It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, in fact he did it all the time, only usually he did it in his head, and somehow, that made it feel saner.

The door opened, although John thought it looked rather more sluggish than normal. He gave it a conciliatory pat and did not feel stupid _at all_.

He only passed a couple of people on the journey to the science labs and each of them looked as washed-out and brain-dead as he felt so he wasn’t worried anyone would notice he was half dressed and shoeless. Lorne actually managed to smack himself in the eye performing an entirely unnecessary salute (John was working on training him out of that, but every now and then it slipped back in) but John had seen Dr Parrish heading their way a minute ago, so he wasn’t too worried for Lorne’s safety.

At first glance, Rodney’s lab appeared empty, but there was a light shining right at the back and, following it, John found two figures sitting on the floor, propped up against the side of a bench. Rodney was plainly asleep, head lolling forward, arms wrapped around his legs. Zelenka had a cup of what could be tea, but could just as easily be something alcoholic, clutched between his hands and he looked up and smiled when the floor creaked under John’s feet.

“Hey,” John said quietly, crouching down in front of the scientists, ignoring his knees when they cracked.

“Colonel,” Zelenka said. He looked like he was trying to find the words to say something else, but, from the look of his red eyes and grey-white face, John wasn’t surprised when he failed.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I am fine. We have had a busy day.”

“You can say that again. But everything’s sorted now, right?”

Zelenka nodded. “The halon gas has been put under more strict control and the system has been locked down so only Rodney and I may access it for the time being. I think, when we have all had many hours of sleep, it would be advisable to discuss an alternate fire suppression system. This is second time this one has nearly cost lives of members of our expedition.”

“Yeah,” John said, trying not to think about the first time; memories of Thalen’s brief but eventful stay in his head were not among his best. “You did good though.”

“Yes,” Zelenka said, slanting a glance to where Rodney still slept, “Yes, we did. McKay, of course, insisted on taking on majority of the work himself. Stubborn, infuriating little man.”

John spared his own glance at Rodney, and smiled. “He is that.”

“And now,” Zelenka’s voice was getting quieter, “Now that you are here for Rodney, I think I will sleep.” And, just like that, his eyes closed, his head tipped forward and he began to snore softly.

“Yeah,” John said to himself, “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Hey, Rodney. Wakey-wakey.”

No response, so John dug a finger into his shoulder, grinning when Rodney jerked awake with a snort.

“Wha? Wha?” Rodney’s bleary eyes focused slowly, “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” John stood up and took Rodney’s hand, “C’mon, it’s time for bed.”

“No,” Rodney tried to pull away, “I’ve gotta fix the…” he waved his other hand vaguely; John wasn’t convinced he was even fully awake yet, “Thingy.”

“The thingy’s fixed, Rodney. Come on.”

“You sure?” Rodney was still frowning, looking around himself, seemingly confused over how he got on the floor.

“I promise.” And wasn’t it a kick that that was good enough for Rodney and he let himself be pulled to his feet.

“Woah, headrush,” Rodney said, grabbing at John and the nearest bench and nearly managing to topple himself before John got an arm around his waist and steadied him.

John got them turned toward the exit, then stopped, thinking he should probably call someone for Zelenka. “Hey, Rodney, is Zelenka seeing anyone?”

Rodney’s head was on his shoulder and his breath was hot on John’s neck, “Hmm?”

“Radek. Is he dating anyone?”

“Mmm.” Rodney nodded and John got the impression his head might actually roll off at any moment, “Elizabeth,”

John found himself smiling at that. Good for Radek, he’d been chasing her long enough.

Elizabeth didn’t sound like she’d been asleep when John radioed her, and luckily she didn’t ask _why_ it was her he was calling (that kind of embarrassment could wait until his brain wasn’t expanding into his eye cavities), just thanked him and wished him a good night.

They got back to the room (Rodney’s, because it was closer and John was no way willing to drag a semi-conscious scientist who out-weighed him by a good twenty-five pounds, any further than strictly necessary. If the _Daedalus_ had been in orbit, John might seriously have considered getting Hermiod to beam them there) and as far as John was concerned, that was job done. They both needed to shower, it would be nice to get out of some of his clothes, but really, he could see a bed, he was damned if he was going to ignore it one second longer.

“C’mon,” he said, poking Rodney until he shuffled over to the bed and just seemed to melt down onto it. John tried to kick off his shoes, only to find he still wasn’t wearing any, then crawled in beside Rodney. God, remind him never to complain about Rodney’s prescription mattress, ever, ever again, because this was clearly the most wonderful place in the galaxy. In any galaxy.

Rodney was moving around on the mattress beside him, making vague sounds about zips in unfortunate places, but this was familiar to John and he just smiled and let himself drift off.

He fell asleep to the sound of Rodney’s tired mumblings and woke, not much later, to a full-blown rant.

“Shut up,” John protested, pressing his face into the pillow.

Rodney seemed to be holding court on something to do with ‘jumper decompression ratios, it was something John knew Rodney and Radek had been working on before the halon crisis, but that didn’t explain why Rodney was working on it now. Namely, while in bed; while trying to sleep; and, most importantly, while _John_ was trying to sleep.

John lifted his face from the pillow, eyes feeling gritty, pulse beginning to pound in his head. He squinted at Rodney and found his eyes were shut, mouth moving slowly, forming words sluggishly. “Rodney,” he said, “You’re talking in your sleep.”

“Mmm,” Rodney sounded like he agreed, but a moment later, he was mumbling again.

John slid his hand under Rodney’s shirt and rubbed soft circles on his belly, hoping to relax him, flashing on a memory of his mother doing exactly the same when he was a kid. Rodney muttered a protest and John firmed his touch, remembering Rodney’s tendency to be ticklish there unless he was turned on.

Gradually, Rodney calmed and John felt ridiculously pleased that he’d done that. His head drooped and he let it rest on the shoulder of Rodney’s scratchy uniform.

Then Rodney flailed out with an arm and elbowed John in the jaw.

His “Ow, fuck,” was loud enough to bring Rodney full awake (and probably everyone else in the city, thank God for soundproof walls).

“Shit,” Rodney’s hand fluttered over John’s face, but didn’t touch. He was blushing and John understood why; Rodney hated being out of control, even when asleep. “Look, maybe you should go to your own room, I don’t think I’m going to be much fun to sleep with tonight.”

It was tempting, John was tempted, but he’d spent the last two nights alone and, though he wasn’t about to admit it, he’d missed Rodney.

“Just lie back, okay,” John said, getting an idea. He used the hand still resting on Rodney’s belly to guide him back, then pushed the soft, overwashed, material up finding bare skin. He slithered down the bed until he could kiss the soft skin around Rodney’s navel.

“John?” Rodney’s voice was a question, but the way his hand reached for the back of John’s head seemed automatic, stroking his fingers through John’s hair in the way John loved.

“Just relax.” John sucked a kiss into the soft curve of Rodney’s belly, resisting the compulsion to bite down. He loved the feel of Rodney’s flesh between his teeth, but that wasn’t likely to relax Rodney at the moment.

Rodney’s pants were easy to unbutton, but getting Rodney to lift up so John could slide them and his boxers down required almost more coordination than they could currently manage.

Objective achieved at last, John took a moment just to study the area he’d revealed. He loved Rodney’s cock, loved everything about it, even now when it was small and sleepy, vulnerable, nestled in dark brown curls.

He ran two fingers over it, smiling when it gave a half-interested twitch and he heard an even more interested catch of breath from Rodney.

John and Rodney had been together long enough that John knew all Rodney’s embarrassing stories. He knew that when Rodney’s brain got all clogged up with work and he couldn’t switch it off to sleep, he liked to jerk off. He knew that, half way through his thesis, Rodney had tried to catch a nap in his lab and, finding he couldn’t sleep, had attempted his usual method, only for his supervisor to walk in. When Rodney had had a couple of drinks and was regaling it to Beckett and Zelenka, that story always ended with the supervisor falling to her knees and helping him along; John hadn’t got the true version yet, but he was pretty certain that wasn’t it.

“John,” Rodney tugged on his hair, “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to…” he waved a hand to indicate the general area of John’s mouth and Rodney’s cock.

John just grinned at him, “Don’t worry, I am.” Then he took Rodney’s cock in his mouth and began to suck lightly. Rodney’s thighs twitched.

Rodney’s cock grew slowly in John’s mouth, slow enough that he could feel each heavy pulse of blood, the slow tightening of Rodney’s balls, could sink his nose into Rodney’s hair and inhale sweat and musk for a long time before he had to move back to make extra room.

John had been giving blowjobs since he was sixteen, since he was old enough to work out they were better currency than football cards or cigarettes pilfered from his dad’s coat pocket. He’d given them to guys who’d wanted to grab his head and fuck him, he’d had a one night stand in Berlin who’d wanted to spend the whole night sixty-nining, pulling off just when John was close to coming and keeping him on edge until dawn. John had blown a superior officer in a stock cupboard on McMurdo and an Afghan Sheik on a dirt road outside Khabour with hot sand burning his eyes and tickling his throat.

But he’d never had a better time than he had blowing Rodney McKay. Rodney loved it, got more turned on by John’s mouth than by his hand or his ass, would twist and moan and plead and generally ensure they could only ever do this in the privacy of their rooms.

And now, though Rodney was maybe too tired to go the whole way, he was still making soft pleas and throaty gasps that turned John on, spurred him forward, made him open his throat, think about anything but breathing, and take Rodney as deep as he could.

Rodney cursed and John grinned, or would have done if he hadn’t had a leaking cock in his mouth. He went down on Rodney until he was lightheaded, then pulled off, deliberately not releasing the vacuum ‘til the last minute so his mouth made a popping sound, then mouthed at Rodney’s balls until he got his breath back. Rodney’s hands were tight in his hair, and his pleading was starting to shift to begging, so John wrapped his lips around the very head of Rodney’s cock, flicking his tongue just under the head on the spot that drove Rodney crazy, and sucked and licked until Rodney’s hips rose of the bed and John’s mouth was flooded and Rodney’s words became one, long cry.

When it was over, John licked his lips and scooted down so he could pull Rodney’s pants and underwear the rest of the way off, ending up throwing them, shoes and socks, into a heap at the foot of the bed, when they took too long. Then he shucked his own outer clothes and returned to the bed.

Rodney’s eyes were shut, but he tipped his chin up when John curled around next to him, so John obligingly kissed him, letting Rodney taste himself in John’s mouth. But when Rodney reached for John’s cock, John gently pulled his hand away.

“Not tonight, buddy,” he said.

“But you…” Rodney looked vaguely disgruntled, so John kissed him.

“No one’s keeping score, Rodney. Just get some sleep.”

“Doesn’t seem fair,” Rodney mumbled, breathing already evening out.

“You can owe me,” John said softly, amused when Rodney’s expression cleared and he nodded happily before drifting off.

John lay down and curled a hand over Rodney’s hip, laying his head on the pillow close to Rodney’s. He yawned, wriggled a bit, then finally, finally fell asleep.  


/End 


End file.
